


Reunions

by Rooadoodle, Sixylicious



Series: To Defy Death [5]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Reunions, Thieves Guild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-07 09:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11621148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rooadoodle/pseuds/Rooadoodle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sixylicious/pseuds/Sixylicious
Summary: Of all the things Kemosiri had expected when he joined the Thieves Guild, finding Khati in the cistern after seven years apart wasn't even on the list. But why doesn't the Khajiit seem to recognize him? Who is this "Mother" Khati refers to?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note that Khati's relationship with the Night Mother is very unhealthy. If you're triggered by emotional manipulation or gaslighting, you may not want to read this.

Khati lounged on his bed in the cistern, his thoughts wandering. As much as he wanted to get started on the contract immediately, Astrid had demanded he wait and he wasn’t allowed to disobey her. Sometimes the tenets were a blessing, others an annoyance. So here he was, in Riften, waiting while Delvin used his extensive network to research the amulet Motierre had paid with to determine how much it was worth.

The Khajiit hated waiting.

Brynjolf entered the cistern a moment later, escorting an unfamiliar Redguard man. Khati sat up, one ear cocked to listen in. Evidently the Redguard was a new recruit, as Brynjolf was introducing him to Mercer.

“Goldenglow, really? Even our little Vex couldn’t get in there,” Brynjolf remarked.

Mercer shrugged. “You say he has potential, have him prove it. Send someone along to watch just in case.”

Everyone else milling around the cistern suddenly acted like they were in the middle of something, and Khati realized with a scowl that he’d been set up. Brynjolf led the Redguard over, his expression satisfied.

“Alright then. Khati, this is Kemosiri. You know the details to Goldenglow, don’t you?”

Khati sat up, glancing from the new recruit to Brynjolf. The Redguard looked vaguely familiar… strange. “Of course. You want me to go with him?”

“So you were listening after all,” Brynjolf said. “I think he’ll be fine, but go along and watch his back just in case.”

Khati stood and stretched, grabbing the belt with his swords from beside the bed. “Can do. Come on. I need to talk to Delvin before we go.”

Kemosiri shrugged. “Fine.”

As they walked back to the Flagon, Khati became aware almost immediately that the Redguard was staring at him rather intently. “What, never seen a Khajiit before?”

“What? No, of course I’ve seen Khajiit before.”

“Then quit staring.”

After finding out from Delvin that he didn’t have an answer on the amulet yet, Khati pointed the way out of the Ragged Flagon and let Kemosiri lead. He was only here to monitor the Redguard’s progress and assess his skills, after all. Much to Khati’s chagrin, they would barely be into the Ratway before Kemosiri started asking him questions.

“How did you get to Skyrim?”

Khati leveled him with a glare. Vaguely familiar and annoying, great. If he didn’t still need payment from Delvin, the Khajiit wouldn’t bother following this through. Ties to the guild be damned. The Night Mother kept him busy enough anyway.

“Don’t you recognize me at all?” Kemosiri asked, his expression confused. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I think I would remember someone who asked so many annoying questions,” Khati muttered. The danger inherent in his tone usually stopped any lines of questioning there, but of course Kemosiri wouldn’t be dissuaded. Vaguely familiar, annoying, and stubborn. Sithis lend him patience.

“Quit acting like such an ass. At least tell me how long you’ve been in Skyrim.”

The Khajiit shrugged. “According to Brynjolf, I’m always an ass. I’ve been in Skyrim about two years now, if that will make you shut up.”

“Where were you before that?”

Khati wanted to stab him. “Places that aren’t Skyrim.”

They were out of the Ratway now, and the Khajiit wouldn’t speak again until they were just across the bridge from Goldenglow, out of sight of the mercenaries. There hadn’t been mercenaries the last time Khati was here; it was a development he’d have to report. Maven would be interested. “Do you even have experience or did Brynjolf just pick you up on a street corner?”

The Redguard’s expression morphed into one of irritation. Obviously he'd caught the insinuation. Maybe Khati would have some fun with this. “For your information, I picked my first lock at 12. Which you should know.”

“And I picked my first lock at ten, stole my first thing a week later,” Khati replied, his tail flicking behind him. “You can say whatever you want. I’m here to make sure you can back those words up. Now maybe Mercer didn’t tell you how important Goldenglow is… Our biggest client has an interest in seeing this resolved peacefully, and if you ever want to step foot in Riften again you really don’t want to upset her. Burn three beehives. No more, no less. Then I’ll show you the way inside, and you can clear the safe out.”

“How do you know the way inside if nobody’s been able to do this yet?”

“We’ve been scouting this for weeks in preparation.” Khati motioned him forward. “Now, after you.”

Kemosiri grumbled under his breath as he dropped down on the other side of the wall. He dropped into a crouch, his bow readied as he surveyed the area around him. He was outnumbered and the mercenaries certainly looked like they meant business. Nothing Kemosiri couldn't handle, he hoped.

"Don't know what his problem is," he muttered as he lined up an arrow with the sentry. “Asshole didn’t even acknowledge me!” He let fly his arrow, waited just long enough to confirm that he’d hit his mark, and made a break for a new hiding place.

Just as he predicted, the other mercenaries were immediately alerted by the heavy thud of the sentry’s body on the earth. So long as Kemosiri kept his head down and took advantage of the chaos, he could avoid a messy conflict. Classic tactics he’d learned from his father; confuse and maintain distance when outnumbered.

And it gave him time to think about what had gotten into Khati.

“He can’t have forgotten that easily, we grew up together for Mara’s sake!” Kemosiri grumbled. He dropped down onto the bank of the lake and pressed his back against the ledge, hiding under the overhang as the mercenaries searched for their assailant. Their heavy boots made the earth vibrate and rained loose dirt down onto his head.

“But it has been… what, seven years?” Seven years was a long time now that he thought about it. But that still didn’t seem like enough of an excuse. How could someone just _forget_ their childhood friend? Especially when they’d grown up together. It seemed unfathomable.

Kemosiri popped up and sent an arrow straight into the back of a passing mercenary. Sloppy, but he would bleed out before too long. Kemosiri dropped back down and edged his way along the bank, all the while being sure to keep his head out of sight.

“Maybe he is just being an ass,” he mused to himself. “Pretending that he doesn’t remember just to get under my skin. _Typical._ ”

He pulled himself up over the bank and rolled into some nearby bushes. So far, so good. The mercenaries were scattered and confused, the beehives were mostly unguarded now. Kemosiri spotted a straggler up on the hill and picked him off.

“Or maybe something happened,” Kemosiri mused as he moved from his spot and started edging closer to the hives. All the while, he kept an ear trained on the confusion around him. “Maybe he doesn’t remember because he can’t. Divines know what he’s been doing all this time.” The Dark Brotherhood armor was certainly worrisome. Kemosiri hoped it was just a bad fashion statement, it certainly suited his attitude.

He kicked a rock, sending it skittering out from the bushes and onto the path. He grimaced, realizing a bit too late he was getting distracted. Kemosiri drew in a breath and pushed all thoughts of Khati from his head for now. He could ponder about the Khajiit later.

Finally, Kemosiri managed to make his way to the hives. What mercenaries remained were too busy running around looking for a sniper or guarding the perimeter of the house itself. The hives were neglected. Who would target those? Kemosiri lit a torch using one of the braziers and shoved it into the first hive. It caught quickly and he moved to the next.

“Maybe I’ll ask Brynjolf about it later,” Kemosiri sighed. “He’s got to have some answers.”

Unfortunately, he had little time to contemplate further. Bees, as it turned out, did not appreciate fire. Soon, he was surrounded by a furious buzzing swarm that wanted to kill him just as much as the mercenaries did. Naturally, the smoke drew their attention as well.

 _“The hives! Put out the hives!”_ Kemosiri heard the shout go up as he plunged down the bank and into the lake, submerging himself before the buzzing death cloud got to him.

He waited until he was certain the remaining mercenaries were busy with the hives and fighting off bees before he made his way back to the gate. He pilfered the key off one of the dead men and unlocked it. He shoved open the heavy wooden gate and greeted the waiting Khajiit with his usual lopsided smile.

“Piece of cake,” Kemosiri boasted. “Now how do we get inside?”

Khati stayed out of sight while the Redguard easily took out the sentry. A few of his shots were sloppy, but there was decent potential. The Khajiit frowned. Damn, did this mean he'd have to put up with the Redguard longer? If he was actually good, the guild would keep him.

When Kemosiri reappeared, key in hand, Khati had to admit he was reluctantly impressed. The Redguard hadn't even been stung. "Alright then, not half bad. There's two ways in, but since you got the key we may as well go through the door. Aringoth will know we're coming, and I'm sure there's twice as many mercenaries inside. But this is the guild, not the Dark Brotherhood, so try to keep the killing to a minimum. Also Maven's orders."

He motioned Kemosiri over to the door. "Now the safe's in the basement, but you might want to get the key from Aringoth first. He's probably upstairs. That safe's practically unbreakable. Three of us have tried."

"I'm certain I can manage that much," Kemosiri stated confidently. "I managed well enough out here." He was fairly good at distraction based tactics, it often came in handy in his line of work where casualties sometimes needed to be kept to a minimum. Of course, he would have to adjust some of his approaches to work indoors.

Kemosiri approached the door and unlocked it. "I take it that's your way of subtly saying I don't have the skills to pick that lock and I shouldn't even try it," he said, casting a glance over at Khati. To be frank, lockpicking wasn't one of his stronger skills. He was decent at it but there were better. Not that he would readily admit it to the Khajiit in question, though he should have remembered that much. "Most men would take that as a challenge."

Khati shrugged. "Well you're welcome to try, but Vex is our best and she couldn't crack that safe." She'd broken a dozen lockpicks before getting caught by a mercenary. No one had been able to speak to her for a week without being snapped at.

He did have the feeling that Kemosiri was good at distraction tactics, but why? This vague sense of familiarity was beginning to annoy him.

"I'm not stupid," Kemosiri snorted. _You should know that._

He hesitated in the doorway, mouth open as if he wanted to say more. And yet, it seemed like a futile effort. Whether Khati was just trying to play him for a fool or if he truly didn't remember, Kemosiri still had yet to determine and now wasn't the time to question him. He closed his mouth and turned away, proceeding inside. At least the distraction of having to sneak his way around the house would be welcome. Kemosiri reached up to touch the amulet around his neck, sending up a silent prayer to Stendarr. _Divines give me patience._

Kemosiri moved through the house as silently as a cat, keeping his eyes and ears peeled as he carefully mapped out the first floor. He observed at least three mercenaries downstairs patrolling the halls, if sitting around swapping stories could be counted as _patrolling._ They weren't even near the stairs. Kemosiri smirked and easily slid by them. If he could reach Aringoth without issue, perhaps this job wouldn't be so hard after all. And the rest of the guild had trouble with this?

 _Don't get cocky, you don't know what lies ahead._ His father's voice echoed in the back of his head, causing Kemosiri to pause. He drew in a breath and steadied himself. He was being careless, that was what got people killed.

"What is going on down there?"

Kemosiri froze and pressed himself against a wall, listening intently. He could hear someone shuffling around in the room just ahead of him.

"Useless mercenaries, I was assured they were the best money could buy! Useless, useless! I'm as good as dead."

Just a single set of footsteps, easy enough to take care of. Kemosiri straightened up and made his way to the room. He slipped inside silently, closing the door behind him. Aringoth didn't notice him at first, his back faced the door as he frantically stared out the window at the smoldering hives and harried mercenaries. It seemed all too easy. Kemosiri pulled a knife from his belt and moved forward, he grabbed Aringoth's arm and twisted it behind his back, the knife pressed threateningly against him; positioned just over his kidney. It was rare that he would have to threaten people in this way, admittedly it wasn't his favorite thing in the world either, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"I'm only going to ask this once," Kemosiri hissed. "Hand over the key to the safe without any fuss and I won't have to do anything regretful."

"I can't! If I do, I may as well cut my own throat," Aringoth whimpered. "I didn't think Maven or Mercer would allow me to get away with this, but I had little choice!"

Kemosiri narrowed his eyes and pressed the knife closer, a silent threat of impending death. "Don't be foolish, Aringoth. Just give me the key."

He felt the Altmer stiffen in his grip then start to shake... _with laughter._ "You expect me to fall for that? The guild doesn't kill," he hissed. "I'm a dead man regardless. Go ahead, get your hands dirty if you dare."

Kemosiri hadn't quite planned for this. He hesitated, his grip loosened. _Never hesitate, Siri!_ Aringoth twisted free and knocked the knife free from his grip. Kemosiri cursed and went for another.

"You fools help me! I'm being attacked!" Aringoth screamed as he scrambled for the door.

Kemosiri lunged forward, he caught Aringoth by the arm and drove his knife into his back. Aringoth let out a strangled gurgle, Kemosiri grimaced. It was messy, sloppy. Why did he hesitate? He knew better. Kemosiri pulled his knife free and let the Altmer crumple, twitching and gasping as his life bled out onto the floor. The sounds of heavy boots on the stairs announced his impending visitors. No doubt Khati would have some snarky remark about this like usual. Kemosiri drew his sword and prepared for another mess.

The fight ended quickly. Even outnumbered, simple mercenaries were no match for a trained warrior. Kemosiri heaved out a sigh as he wiped blood from his face, leaving a glistening red streak stark against his dark skin, almost mimicking the tattoos around his left eye. He rifled through Aringoth's pockets for the key then headed downstairs to locate the safe. Thankfully, the scuffle upstairs seemed to have not alerted the mercenaries in the basement. He slipped past the first two, the third further in easily distracted by an upturned barrel. A simple chair placed against the door ensured the mercenary wouldn't be bothering him anytime soon.

Kemosiri soon emerged from the house, bloodied and no less grumpy than before, but contents of the safe in hand. All in all, the mission was a success in his books.

Khati was leaning against the door where he'd left Kemosiri, though he'd been in the house some and watched the recruit's tangle with the mercenaries upstairs. It had been the consensus among the guild that Aringoth would fight back, so the Khajiit wasn't at all surprised to see him dead on the floor. What had surprised him were the dead mercenaries. Not a problem, per say, just an indication that perhaps Kemosiri had been caught unaware. At least the Redguard could fight, though Khati had wanted his blades to have a taste of those mercenaries. Another time, perhaps.

"Good work," he remarked. "Aringoth isn't much of a loss, honestly. Maven will have someone in here to replace him within a week."

Khati pulled a clean cloth out of a small satchel at his belt and tossed it to the Redguard. "Might want to clean yourself up a bit. I expect she'll be waiting when we get back."

Once Kemosiri did so, Khati would lead the way back to the cistern.

The lack of snark caught Kemosiri off guard. He was beginning to wonder if maybe he was the one who was mistaken. Maybe there was another Khajiit by the name of Khati, who also happened to look very much like the Khati he knew.

It was a preposterous thought but no less strange than the current circumstances.

"Good to know," Kemosiri grumbled as he caught the cloth and wiped the blood from his face. He was at least thankful that he'd lost his squeamishness years ago. Still, it was discomforting knowing he had another man's blood on his hands both figuratively and literally. Perhaps it was something that would never go away.

Kemosiri remained quiet on the way back to the cistern. All the while he studied Khati carefully, trying to find some hint or some answer to the questions that still chased around his head. Everything about the Khajiit was familiar, there was no mistaking it. So why did Khati not remember him? What was with the armor? Where had he been all this time? Questions upon questions upon questions and not a single answer to be found.

When they reported back in, Mercer seemed pleased - both with Kemosiri's accomplishments and Khati's report.

"Oh, one more thing," the guildmaster continued, "Maven wants to see you both. She's waiting in the tavern in her usual spot. Don't keep her waiting, she's not in a patient mood. Kemosiri, if you see Tonilia on your way out she'll get your armor."

"Noted," Khati said, seeming to answer for both of them. That perhaps was yet another thing the Redguard would find familiar.

Kemosiri opened his mouth to answer but Khati beat him to the punch. Just like he used to back when they were kids. That couldn't be mere coincidence, could it? Such were his thoughts as they left the cistern and headed to the Bee & Barb to meet with Maven.

She was as imposing as Kemosiri imagined her to be, if not more so. Maven looked the Redguard up and down, her sharp gaze seemed to pierce right through him.

"So you're the one," she said. "You don't look so impressive but Brynjolf seems to believe you have potential." Maven glanced over at Khati. "And what do _you_ think?"

"Technique needs a little polish, but he's good," Khati answered. "Nothing another job or two won't fix."

"High praise coming from you," Maven said. She seemed satisfied with the answer the Khajiit had given, though only time would tell if she would stay that way. "Then it's a good thing I have another job for you. I need this handled promptly and with the guild's usual discretion. Are you familiar with the Honningbrew Meadery? Only open for a month and they're stealing all my business. I want them gone. Mallus Maccius can fill you in on the details, he's usually in the Bannered Mare. Make sure you find out how they became so successful so quickly. No one crosses me without some kind of motive and I _will_ find out why. Report back to me when you're done."

"Of course," Khati replied. "Is there anything else while we're here?"

Maven's smiles were, if possible, even more intimidating than her normal expression. "Tell Astrid I said hello."

The compliment caught Kemosiri slightly off guard. He couldn't quite remember a time when he'd gotten a sincere compliment from Khati, they were a rare occurrence even when they had been younger. Certainly now it seemed it should be even less of a possibility, considering Khati's current attitude toward him. This day just kept getting stranger and stranger.

"I'll see it done," Kemosiri promised. At least he'd give it his best shot. He hadn't exactly planned on getting roped into such shady business, but it seemed it was a running theme with his life at the moment. As long as it paid well, he couldn't complain too much.

He waited until they left the inn before he decided to try speaking with Khati again, this time choosing to address something was currently on his mind. "So, who's Astrid?" he asked casually. "Friend of yours?"

The Khajiit let out a snort, amused at even the thought. Astrid was a _friend_ , sure, in the same way Maven was, or in the same way a caged sabre cat was. A useful ally, and not someone he wanted to cross, but a friend? The letter of credit Delvin had slipped him for the amulet felt suddenly heavy in his pocket. "In a manner of speaking, not that it's any of your business."

_'He has always distracted you...'_

The Night Mother's voice was gone as quickly as it came, and no matter how he pressed, she would not elaborate. Khati turned away from the Redguard, his expression tinged with confusion. What had she meant? Why was Kemosiri so familiar?

Again with the secrets. Kemosiri's shoulders stiffened and he drew in a sharp breath. He was beginning to lose patience in this little game Khati was playing, in which Kemosiri was an unwilling participant. Whether Khati was doing it intentionally or not, he still couldn't decide. Khati had always been an enigma like that, a puzzle that Kemosiri couldn't solve.

"No, I suppose it isn't," he replied flatly. "I suppose it's not my business to know anything about you."

 _It's not like we grew up together or anything._ He bit off those last words, kept them to himself. He wasn't going to let Khati see how much he was hurt. It wasn't as though he'd spent the last seven years looking for a sign that Khati was still around, it wasn't as if he'd ask his father if he'd found anything every time he came back from an expedition outside of Hammerfell. And all this time, Khati had been here. He'd been fine. The longer Kemosiri stared at him, the more the hurt and anger grew. He wanted to grab the Khajiit by the scruff and shake him. _You never once thought to tell us you were fine at least? Where were you? Why did you leave? How could you just forget me, forget all of us?_

Kemosiri tore his gaze away. "It's getting late," he said, more to himself than Khati. "We'll leave for Whiterun in the morning." He didn't care if Khati objected, at the moment all he wanted was to put distance between himself and the Khajiit.

"Secrets in my business keep you alive," Khati muttered, too distracted by the Night Mother's words. What had she meant? For the first time in years, the Khajiit found himself trying to think about his childhood. But no matter how hard he tried, all Khati could remember were the warm sands of Hammerfell and a distinct feeling of bitterness. There had to be something missing. Was the Night Mother referring to whatever he couldn't remember?

As Kemosiri spoke again, Khati felt anger well up within him. "Because making Maven wait is a great way to prolong your life in this city. Fine. Meet me by the stables in the morning."

Khati turned and left without another word, heading through the city gates. He knew of several bandit hideouts nearby, maybe he would go hunt away this frustration.

Kemosiri spent a restless night in the cistern. His thoughts continually returned to Khati, despite his best efforts to shove the Khajiit out of his head. To say the least, Kemosiri didn't get much sleep that night. By the time he reached the stables the following morning, he was in an even less agreeable mood than usual.

"You ready?" Kemosiri asked as he reached the stables outside of Riften.

Khati killed three bandits - two Nords and a Redguard - outside the city that night, choosing the best parts of the two Nords to offer to Namira before consuming them. While hunting in this manner usually served to calm him, tonight it was doing the opposite. The dead Redguard looked almost familiar, but he had to be imagining it. Kemosiri was back in Riften, probably in the cistern. The Khajiit blinked and the man he'd just killed looked nothing like Kemosiri, but the feeling of unease was still there, laced with the bitterness that came along with any time he remembered Hammerfell. If he focused hard enough he could almost summon the image of a family, husband, wife, son, and daughter. Where were their faces? He could feel the wind whipping up the sand until it stung him, the exhilaration of a ride on a stolen horse. Mother had called him away, but _what was missing?_

He washed the blood from his fur shortly before dawn and returned to the city, waiting by the stables for the Redguard to appear. The Khajiit hadn't slept at all.

"Let's go," Khati said. He grabbed the reins of the horse he was using. "We've put this off long enough."

Kemosiri nodded wordlessly and mounted his horse. He remained mostly silent on the way to Whiterun, his gaze pointed straight ahead or scanning the tree line for potential threats. He looked anywhere but at Khati. Normally, he might have tried to converse with the Khajiit more, try to pick his brain and figure out what happened all those years ago, if only he weren't currently at his last thread of patience with him. It seemed a fool's errand at this point and he just had to accept the fact that Khati didn't remember him, or even seem to desire to remember to start with. As much as that hurt to admit to himself.

Kemosiri finally broke his silence when they reached the gates of Whiterun. "Guess we ought to track down this Maccius fellow," he sighed. "Bannered Mare, right?"

Khati spent the entire trip to Whiterun staring at Kemosiri, oblivious or more likely apathetic to the effect that would have on the Redguard. He'd always had an insatiable curiosity. Kemosiri had to seem familiar for a reason, but why?

By the time they reached Whiterun, Khati had only decided on one thing. Maybe Kemosiri was the boy from his memories of Hammerfell? The Night Mother was displeased, but Khati ignored her. He had to know.

"He should be there, yes."

"Let's not keep him waiting then," Kemosiri said.

Sure enough, Mallus Maccius awaited them in the Bannered Mare. He sat tucked away in a corner of the inn's kitchen, sipping at a bottle of mead. He looked up as Kemosiri and Khati entered, his expression remained flat.

"You must be the one Maven said she'd send," he said, looking Kemosiri up and down. "I suppose you'll do. I'm going to keep this short 'cause we've got a lot to do."

Mallus leaned forward in his seat, fingers tented. "Honningbrew's owner, Sabjorn, is about to hold a tasting for Whiterun's Captain of the Guard and we're going to poison the mead."

Kemosiri raised a brow, a hundred concerns immediately coming to mind. Now wasn't the time for morals though. "Poison? And do you have this poison?"

A grin split Mallus's face and he waved a hand. "No, no. That's the beauty of the whole plan! We're going to get Sabjorn to give it to us," he said gleefully. "The meadery has had a bit of a pest problem. Pest poison and mead don't mix well, you catch my meaning?"

Kemosiri nodded. He could certainly put the pieces together.

"So, you're going to happen by and lend poor old Sabjorn a helping hand with his pest problem. He'll provide the poison, but you're also going to dump it into the brewing vat. You can manage that, can't you?"

"Of course," Kemosiri replied. He didn't _like_ it but it wasn't his place to say.

"Good. Maven and I spent weeks planning this so don't mess it up. Now get going before Sabjorn grows a brain and hires someone else to do the dirty work."

Kemosiri nodded silently and turned to leave, casting a quick glance to Khati as he did so. "I take it you'll sit back and enjoy the show in the meanwhile?" he asked.

"I'll follow along," Khati said, shrugging. "Easier to observe."

He knew, though Kemosiri wouldn't, that jobs from Maven directly tended to have surprises. Besides, he wanted a chance to watch the Redguard more, see if maybe he could figure out why Kemosiri seemed so familiar.

"Right," Kemosiri simply replied.

Kemosiri entered the Honningbrew Meadery and took one look at the dead skeevers on the floor; he had the sinking feeling that this job would be a bit more than he'd bargained for. "I see you have a bit of a problem," he said.

"Well, well, aren't you a smart one," Sabjorn remarked dryly. "Look at this place! I'm supposed to be holding a tasting of the new Honningbrew Reserve for the Captain of the Guard. If he sees the meadery in this state, I'll be ruined."

Kemosiri nudged one of the skeevers with his boot. "Seems like you could use a little help with that."

"Oh really? And I don't suppose you'd just do it out of the kindness of your heart, would you?" Sabjorn said with a snort. "I hope you're not expecting to get paid until the job's done."

"I only ask for half," Kemosiri fixed Sabjorn in his gaze. "If that's going to be a problem I can go elsewhere, or alert the authorities to your little... _problem."_

Sabjorn stiffened. "Fine, fine! Have half, you'll get the rest when it's done." He counted out some septims and shoved them into Kemosiri's hand, along with a small bottle of skeever poison. "Now get to it and be quick about it!"

As soon as they were in the basement of the meadery, Kemosiri cast a glance over to Khati. "Well, he's a pleasant character," he said dryly. _Almost like yourself._

Khati snorted, amused at the thought. "I may be an ass, but at least I have some honor. Sabjorn will sell himself to the highest bidder. Except for Maven apparently, but this is personal for her. Let's go."

He gestured to the tunnel where the skeevers were coming from, a burst of flame coming from his palm to clear the way. "I should warn you, Maven's jobs tend to have little surprises. I doubt skeevers are the only things we'll find down here."

He pulled his swords and headed into the tunnel, figuring Kemosiri would follow.

"Honor, huh?" Kemosiri muttered under his breath. Ironic, coming from a man wearing the armor of the Dark Brotherhood.

Kemosiri flinched away from the sudden burst of flame, throwing up an arm to shield his face. Even after his years with the Alik'r, facing all manner of foes for one reason or another, he didn't think he would ever be used to magic. Not even the magic he could now wield with nothing but his voice. If anything, that was even more terrifying than any other magic he'd faced. He could never decide what unsettled him more. The surge of power that would rise in his chest and explode from his throat, the taste of the magic on his tongue. The promise of devastation that lay within the words he spoke, those words that he somehow knew as if by some ancient instinct. It was even more terrifying than anything he had seen Khati or any other mage do in the past.

He lowered his arm and shot a wary scowl at the Khajiit. "Great," he sighed. "Let's just get this over with quickly." He unsheathed his own sword and fell into step behind Khati. Now he was forced to look at him, the tunnels too narrow to allow him any reprieve.

So the Redguard didn't like magic. Alright... that just seemed even more familiar. What was it about Kemosiri? It was really beginning to bother him.

"I'm trying to help you out here," Khati pointed out, a scowl flitting across his own face. "The least you could do is be a little appreciative. But then you haven't so much as looked at me since we left Riften. What is it with you?"

A skeever leapt out in front of him and Khati beheaded it without even looking.

"What's with me? I could ask you the same thing," Kemosiri responded incredulously. "In fact I have."

The quick, thoughtless dispatch of the skeever put him at edge. While he doubted it would come to it, he really did not want to end up on the receiving end of those swords himself. He would have to tread cautiously. At this point, he wouldn't put anything past Khati.

"I really can't decide if this is some cruel joke of yours or you really don't remember anything," Kemosiri went on. "We grew up together. How can you just _forget_ that?" Or even worse, the alternative being that Khati was only pretending.

_We grew up together._

Khati's expression switched abruptly from irritation to honest confusion. Anything he would have said in response died on his tongue. When he spoke again it would be quietly, almost cautious. "You seem so familiar... that's why? We grew up together... Dammit. I don't understand. Why can't I remember?"

_'I told you, my son. He distracts you. He has always distracted you.'_

Khati's expression fell further. For a moment, he looked almost like a child being scolded. "Mother... what do you mean?"

"That's exactly what I want to know," Kemosiri responded, the hard edge in his voice softening ever so slightly. So he really didn't remember? That, at least, hurt less. "What _happened_ to you?"

He stiffened as Khati spoke again, bringing back a distant memory. He'd heard of this "mother" before, so long ago when they were still children. He remembered it made him uncomfortable then and even now it still did. "Khati," Kemosiri said slowly, his tone edging on wary.

The Night Mother's presence retreated from his mind and Khati let out a sigh, sheathing one of his swords so he could run a hand through his hair. "She says you distract me from my duty," he murmured. "I had to leave when my training was complete... maybe she made me forget."

The squeaking of approaching skeevers could be heard now. Khati's expression shifted and he drew his second sword once more. "We need to finish this. Come on... we can talk later."

"Your duty?" Kemosiri questioned. "What duty?"

The answer would have to wait. Kemosiri sighed heavily. Just when he thought he would be getting answers more questions presented themselves. He kept them inside for now, let them tumble around his brain as they fought their way deeper into the tunnel. Toward the end, he caught the sounds of someone shuffling around and dropped to a crouch, signaling to Khati to do the same before he peered around the corner.

"I take it this is what you meant by Maven's jobs having little _surprises_ ," Kemosiri muttered.

It seemed someone had taken up residence in the skeever riddled tunnels, for reasons Kemosiri couldn't begin to fathom.

Khati nodded as he dropped into a crouch beside the Redguard. They fought well together so far, so well together that it made Kemosiri's story easier to believe. They had to have spent a significant amount of time together. Khati had spent the better part of a year now fighting alongside his Family members, and he didn't have a rapport with any of them like this.

"Of course, he's right beside the skeever nest... Means we have to take him on. I'm sure Maven planned it like that. I'll see if I can get around the other side."

His dark fur and armor gave him the advantage in sneaking through this dimly lit cave. The Khajiit crept out of the tunnel and around the corner, watching as the man in the cave looked right over him. Once he was in position, he drew a sword and motioned for Kemosiri. They had the element of surprise, but they wouldn't have it for long.

Kemosiri nodded silently and sheathed his sword. He grabbed his bow and readied an arrow, aiming it on the man's back while the Khajiit moved into position. At Khati's signal, Kemosiri let the arrow fly. It hit its mark, burying deep into the man's lower back. He let out a cry, slumped against the desk he'd been dutifully leaned over then whirled around. A magic aura surrounding his fists, glowing a cold blue.

Great, so he was a mage. Kemosiri ducked back into the tunnel before he could be spotted and reached for another arrow. If Khati somehow failed, he could at least attempt to get another hit in from afar.

Oh great, the crazy man in the skeever cave was a mage. At least it was frost magic! Khati cast a flame cloak around himself, pulled his other sword, and dove in. The Khajiit was a fearsome opponent with both his swords, slashing and whirling like the expert he now was. Many of his moves would look familiar to Kemosiri though, being refined and improved versions of what Khati had practiced when they were children - using two daggers at the time.

Kemosiri broke cover the moment he heard the sounds of battle commence, his arrow readied. He found himself frozen in place, watching transfixed as Khati fought off the mage. A wave of nostalgia overcame him and for a moment the chilly land of Skyrim gave way to an arid desert, the faint salty tang of the breeze blowing in from the coast of Hammerfell and the warmth of the sun on his back. For a moment, he saw the Khajiit as a child, not much older than him, with two daggers in his hands.

Now, Khati was an adult - his technique no longer hampered by the clumsiness of childhood - he was a force to be reckoned with, to be _feared._ All Kemosiri could think, with a pain in his heart, was how proud his father would have been to see how far Khati had come from those days in Hammerfell.

A stray ice spike narrowly missing his shoulder shook Kemosiri from his thoughts and he straightened. Their foe was weakening but he was stubborn, tenacious even. Kemosiri leveled his bow and released his arrow. It found its mark in the man's shoulder and knocked him off balance, presenting an opening for the Khajiit.

Kemosiri's arrow hit its mark just as Khati's cloak of flames died. The Khajiit let out a triumphant laugh and plunged a sword into the man's chest. The mad mage crumpled to the ground, the aura of his magic dying as his life's blood leaked from his chest.

Once he was satisfied the man was dead, Khati pulled out his sword and set about cleaning it on the dead man's robes. "Go ahead and poison the nest," he called. "We need to finish up."

While Kemosiri was doing that, Khati intended to loot his victim's pockets.

All at once, the moment was broken and Kemosiri was flung back into the present. The moment of familiarity was gone, they were back to being nothing but strangers now. Kemosiri slung his bow across his back and made his way to the nest. He was careful to only use half of the poison, saving the rest for the mead. He corked the bottle and returned it to one of the satchels at his side.

"Am I to expect mad men hiding among skeevers to be the norm?" Kemosiri questioned as they emerged from the tunnel into another basement. All things considered, it wasn't the strangest thing that had happened to him since arriving in Skyrim.

Khati laughed and shook his head. "That's about the strangest thing I've done for the guild. I've been hearing rumors about dragons though..."

The Khajiit opened the door into the brewery and set about looking for the Honningbrew Reserve.

Kemosiri grimaced at the mention of dragons. "If only they were just rumors," he muttered. The memory of Helgen was still very fresh in his mind, and Whiterun and Kynesgrove. "Dragons _are_ coming back."

"Well damn," Khati remarked, seeming almost impressed. "I'd seen Helgen, but I didn't think that was really a dragon. Maybe I'll have to go catch a glimpse of one. Looks like this vat is where we're supposed to poison, dump it in and let's go."

"I was at Helgen," Kemosiri admitted, quietly. He didn't much like thinking about the devastation he'd witnessed there, neither the implication of the position he was currently put in as a result. While he still didn't know why the dragons were coming back, he had a bad feeling it wasn't a good sign. His blood still ran cold as he thought about the jet-black dragon that had leveled Helgen so effortlessly, the way its red eyes had pierced deep into his soul like it _knew_ what he was. Perhaps that's why it had attacked to begin with.

Kemosiri uncorked the poison and dumped it into the mead as prompted, the acrid smell of it was drowned out by the heavy musk of the mead. Unless the captain had a very sensitive sense of smell, he wouldn't know until it was too late.

"Stick around me long enough and you're likely to see a dragon," Kemosiri said as he stashed the empty bottle away.

"Huh... maybe I will hang around," the Khajiit said. Between contracts, that is. The letter of credit for Astrid felt heavy in his pocket.

He turned to leave the brewery without another word, swiping the key off the hanger by the door to let them out.

Kemosiri shrugged dismissively, somehow he didn't quite believe Khati would stick around. He would believe it when he saw it.

One poisoned captain of the guard and a promissory note later and the job was finished. Kemosiri could only hope that Maven would appreciate his efforts. As soon as they were outside, he cast a glance over at his Khajiit companion.

"You and I need to talk."

As Kemosiri and Mallus finished their business, Khati only grew more and more uneasy. The Night Mother was stirring in the back of his mind, though she wasn't trying to speak. He left the meadery a minute before Kemosiri, his heart pounding. The Khajiit startled as Kemosiri spoke, his ears pinning to the back of head and his tail held flat against him.

At last he let out a sigh and nodded. "Fine... not here."

Maybe this talk would help him figure Kemosiri out more.

"Fair enough," Kemosiri said, motioning for Khati to follow. He skirted around the side of the meadery and headed off across the field past the farms, leading them far from the road and any prying eyes or ears. He waited until they were surrounded by the protective barrier of trees before he stopped walking. The only threat of interruption now lay with the local wildlife.

Kemosiri turned to face Khati, his arms folded over his chest. "What happened to you?"

Khati followed until they were surrounded by trees, at which point he broke away and moved a few steps ahead. One of the trees nearby had a low-lying branch that the Khajiit gravitated to. Once he was perched safely off the ground, he finally answered the Redguard's question.

"I don't... remember Hammerfell," he murmured. "Mother came when I was young and gave me purpose. I trained until she said I could fulfill it and then she led me here."

It seemed almost like he was repeating something he had been told.

Kemosiri leaned his back against a nearby tree, his gaze trained on the Khajiit as he spoke. His answer did little clear anything up, if anything it only allowed for more questions.

"Purpose, what kind of purpose? Is that the reason you left seven years ago, to pursue this... _purpose?" Without saying goodbye?_ Kemosiri bit off the last question, still unsure how much he wanted to lay bare for Khati to see. So much had changed between them, hints of the Khati he'd known were still there but they were fleeting. He felt less like he was reuniting with an old friend, and more like he was meeting someone for the first time.

"I'm the only one who can hear her," Khati continued, "So I listen and relay her words to the others so we can follow her will... or I would, if Astrid believed me. How can I bring them back to prosperity like this? Even the Listener is ignored..."

His tail flicked behind him, but otherwise he seemed calm. The Khajiit didn't remember most of the details of his departure, not that he'd left without saying goodbye, not what Kemosiri had meant to him. He'd been all but alone for seven years with only the Night Mother's voice to guide him.

Kemosiri narrowed his eyes, unable to make heads nor tails of what Khati was rambling on about. What had happened to him over those seven years? Nothing the Khajiit said made much sense to him and he wondered if he would even get a straight answer if he tried to ask for clarification.

"Okay, next question then," Kemosiri said slowly. "Why are you running around in the armor of the Dark Brotherhood?" He dreaded the answer, considering he had a sinking feeling that he already knew what it was.

Khati turned his head to meet Kemosiri's gaze, the first eye contact he had made since they had left the meadery. "I am the Dark Brotherhood. Sithis speaks to me through the Night Mother so I can return our Family to greatness. I couldn't do that in Hammerfell."

Kemosiri felt a chill go through him and it wasn't from the cold Skyrim air. He straightened and took a step toward the Khajiit's perch, his eyes locked with Khati's. Kemosiri's hands curled into fists of their own accord, the hurt he'd felt since Riften peering out from behind the mask of indifference he'd tried to hide behind.

"That's why you left? Because some voice in your head told you to go join a bunch of killers?" The words tumbled out of him before he could stop himself. "You had a home and family. You had _us_ , and you left that all behind? And now you don't even remember any of it?"

Khati hopped down from the branch, his tail flicking wildly behind him. Kemosiri's words had opened a door in his mind, or maybe the Night Mother had opened it for him. A few things slipped through: a man in the familiar robes of the Alik'r warriors; a younger Kemosiri dressed in similar robes. The Alik'r warriors, Kemosiri among them, and an overwhelming feeling of bitterness. Abandonment. 

Words slipped out without him realizing what he was saying. "No... No, I left because you left. All my life I wanted what you wanted, but I tried to follow and they stopped me. The Night Mother was all I had then. Is it any wonder I followed her when she said I was needed elsewhere?" 

Kemosiri squared his shoulders as Khati hopped down from his perch, at one point in time he may have balked in the face of Khati's fury but that was years ago. He was a different man now, not much scared him anymore. 

_"They_ stopped you?" Kemosiri questioned. "Who is they?" 

Riddles, always with the riddles. Kemosiri lowered his gaze, his arms folding across his chest as if to protect himself. "You didn't even bother to say to say goodbye," he said bitterly. "Did we really mean so little to you? My father looked for you every time he left Hammerfell, every chance he got. We were worried about you!" 

"Your Alik'r," Khati retorted. "They took you away." 

The Khajiit let out a growl and punched the tree he had been perched on. The pain in his hand was nothing compared to the anguish and confusion he was feeling. "All I remember of those days is pain and loneliness! I was alone and Mother was with me." 

_'He left you for the Alik'r. You had no one in Hammerfell after that but me.'_

"You left me for the Alik'r... I had no one after that. Only Mother." 

Kemosiri raked a hand through his hair, conflicted and angry. He hadn't meant to drive Khati away or make him feel alone, he'd blamed himself enough over the years for what happened, but he had his own life to live as well. This wasn't how he'd imagined their reunion would happen. Of course, he hadn't anticipated that Khati would have forgotten everything. 

"What was I supposed to do, give up on my own goals and dreams?" Kemosiri threw back. "And what about the rest of my family? They loved you, they cared about you! Does that mean _nothing_ to you?" 

"I wanted understanding, I wanted someone to listen to me!" Khati roared. "You wouldn't even listen when I tried to tell you about Mother, none of you would! Here I'm needed, my Family will thrive once Astrid accepts my place." 

He turned away, his form shaking from the effort of trying to suppress his emotions and calm himself back down. "Maybe if I could remember them it would mean something. Right now all I remember is being betrayed." 

With that, the Khajiit disappeared into the woods without a backwards glance. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains more emotional abuse, so please be careful reading.

Khati fled north toward Dawnstar, not even stopping as the sun set and the moon rose. Anger drove his steps; anger at Kemosiri, at the Night Mother, at himself for not being able to remember anything. The two bandits unfortunate enough to encounter the Khajiit in his travels would not survive their meeting. At last Khati made it to Dawnstar and the abandoned sanctuary. He shoved the door open and descended down the stairs, the braziers springing to life as he passed. The spirits parted for him now, though they hadn't at first. He was familiar to them now and could pass without fear. No one but he and Cicero knew of the pass phrase for this sanctuary, but even if it was breached the spirits would protect him. After all, he was one of them, his soul bound to Sithis just as they were. 

Deep in the bottom of the sanctuary, buried far beneath Dawnstar was the crypt that contained his Brothers and Sisters of old. While he'd made a bedroom upstairs, today Khati fled there. He'd always felt at home among the dead. The Khajiit huddled in a corner beside the coffin of a long dead assassin and let himself break down.

The anger came first. How dare Kemosiri judge him? The Redguard didn't know his purpose, couldn't understand it. No one could understand the bond he had with the Night Mother. She'd chosen him, bestowed this destiny on him and he had been honor bound to uphold it. It didn't matter whatever he'd left in Hammerfell, the Night Mother was more important. The Night Mother was always more important. Hammerfell was in the past and it was better for the past to stay where it belonged. But... then why had Kemosiri seemed so hurt? What couldn't he remember? Was there something that could have made him choose to stay, if he could remember it?

_'There was nothing!'_

The Night Mother's voice was so loud that it caused him to flinch and cover his ears.

_'This Redguard is a distraction, nothing more. Hammerfell is behind you. You belong to me!'_

Khati whimpered, his eyes pinned closed now as well under her onslaught. "Mother, please! Stop, please! I belong to you, I swear it!"

_'I sense a but.'_

"What have I forgotten?" The Khajiit asked, his voice wavering. "I am simply curious, Mother. He must have meant something for my departure to have hurt him."

He could feel the Night Mother's scorn from the tips of his ears to the fur on the tip of his tail. _'You remember what is important. Kemosiri is not.'_

Khati let out a shaky sigh and acquiesced. "He is not important..."

_'Forget him.'_

Her presence dissipated to leave him alone again, and the Khajiit curled up on the floor of the crypt and allowed himself to cry.

**Author's Note:**

> It gets worse before it gets better, but it does get better eventually. :D


End file.
